


Worst of the Worst

by bishounen_curious



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - College/University, Anal Sex, Communication, Daddy Kink, Finger Sucking, Friends With Benefits, Light Masochism, M/M, is sexy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-29
Updated: 2017-08-29
Packaged: 2018-12-21 11:29:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11943246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bishounen_curious/pseuds/bishounen_curious
Summary: Lance and Keith are terrible friends. They get A) plastered off someone else's alcohol, B) abandon Hunk at this party, and C) get real nasty on someone else's bed.





	Worst of the Worst

**Author's Note:**

> this is fun, flirty, and i was hella not sober when I wrote most of it. did y’all know drake and the entire fireball whisky company personally helped me write this??? 
> 
> reminiscees.tumblr.com is to blame for this

Goddamn, Keith loved wine. 

Well, really, Keith loved everything. He loved how full and warm his belly got when it was full of good-quality pinot grigio, just like it was now. The way the back of his neck was a little sweaty, how when a droplet of sweat slipped down his spine, it made him shiver. It fogged his brain; the buzz softened the dim lights and the outlines of the people crammed around him. Shit, Keith really loved being wine drunk.

Alcohol really tingled in the best way possible. Made his heart so singsongy and his skin crave touch and anything in his line of sight just as radiant as the sun —

— wow, and Lance’s smile. _Goddamn,_ did he love that.

Even while throwing back a shot, screaming about tequila burn. Just wiping the sheen of sweat and spilled booze off his face with the hem of his t-shirt… Even then, he was so beautiful. And Keith came here with him to this party! And Hunk was here too — but Lance! This absolutely fantastic, attractive boy. Could you believe that? That Keith was that lucky?

Keith hugged his almost empty-bottle into the furnace of his chest. There was just too much love in him, he didn’t know what to do with it all.

Lance must’ve sensed Keith’s heartfelt eyes ogling him, because he waltzed right over after he was done. Away from his other friends, to stand next to Keith. Keith shrugged his shoulders, biting his bottom lip to keep his enormous grin under wraps.

“Hey, buddy, you good?” 

Lance’s knuckles brushed along his jawline, and Keith was convinced that he’d die happy. “You look really, really good.” With a nod down at the bottle, Lance’s lips quirked. “And by really good, I mean positively _shitfaced_.”

Keith could not stop himself from giggling. “Everything’s perfect.”

Those were the golden words, apparently, because Lance’s smile widened, and his knuckles were replaced with his entire palm, and it cupped Keith’s cheek so sweetly. Lance’s flesh was all sticky and comforting, cradling his own skin like a blessing. 

“Keith,” Lance’s voice dropped down, nearly inaudible over the roar of the party, “baby, _you’re_ perfect.”

Oh. 

Cuddly heat filled every corner and crevice of Keith’s body. Lance’s 80 proof breath fanned against his nose, his lips, and Keith wanted him to understand just how lovely he thought Lance was. How he simply wanted to _kiss_ him.

So he did.

Lime. Lance’s lips tasted like lime (and salty tequila). Keith chirped against his lips in worship. It was all sloppy but who cared? He loved this boy — loved the way Lance just existed. How he moaned when he’s touched. Anytime Keith does anything to Lance, that boy just _melts_ and it’s so cute and sexy and it intoxicates Keith in a completely different way than wine. In a better way than wine. 

Seriously, though: who would allow Keith to jump on them in the middle of a stranger’s apartment and maul their mouth like this? Just Lance.

Mm, and Lance wore a tank top tonight. God, his biceps were so good, his skin still smelled like soap from his pre-party shower, and that _laundry detergent_ lingering with his superfluous dousing of cologne. Lord. Every iota of Keith yearned for his friend to wrap around him, engulf him, so he could just absorb his entirety. His scent, his body, his everything. 

But Lance had other plans. Like prying open his mouth with own, and slipping his tongue in. All wet and hot and woozy. Pure, unabashed need. Ugh, Keith loved it when he was used like this. When people could watch him get used. Especially when he was manhandled, bumped into surrounding bodies just so Lance could get him exactly how he wanted him to be… That was really hot, and it made him so happy.

“Keith,” Lance groaned into him, “you taste delicious.”

“Thank you!” Keith opened his mouth wider, attempting to deepen to the kiss. “You taste like tequila.”

Squawking, Lance broke away. “What’s that’s supposed to mean…?”

“It means you drank tequila, silly!” Beaming, Keith snaked his arms around Lance’s hips and rested his head on his bare shoulder. “And that I looooooooove you.”

“Sounds like two uncorrelated things, but whatever.” Lance snickered, embracing him regardless. 

The moment couldn’t be ruined. Keith simply nuzzled closer, flushed closer into Lance’s chest, away from the throb of the bass-heavy stereo music. The prying eyes. The everything.

At some point Lance spoke, but Keith’s ears couldn’t pick up the nuance beyond the sound. But who cared? Lance was divine as he held him, and there was nothing better than having a head swimming full of alcohol and having someone nice keeping you safe.

It wasn’t for a few moments before he realized Lance actually desired his attention. “…?”

“I said,” Lance huffed, clearly agitated but trying not to be, “do you wanna come with me for a sec?”

“Why?” 

Awkwardness settled into Lance’s next words. “Moron, c’mon. Just come with me.”

Keith couldn’t even fit a response in before he was yanked away. 

To be honest he couldn’t really map where he was being ragdolled around to. He didn’t know the owner of the apartment, he didn’t know how Lance or Hunk knew these people, and frankly, he was nursing a mighty fine wine stupor that left him feeling clueless and happy in all the right places. He trusted Lance. And yeah, he was fucked up, but not so bad that he didn’t worry about his own decision making skills. Squeezing through bodies, through laughter, through spilled solo cups, through Hunk — Keith beamed at him and waved, and his much taller friend just stared at him — huh, weird, and eventually, after clearing the drunk labyrinth of a college party, Lance finally pulled him into a room off the side of the main living room area and shut the door.

The music was muffled, but still palpable in the air. With the decreased stimuli, the stillness, Keith suddenly became painfully aware of just how _fucked up_ he was. Dang, that wine was something else.

And yeah, he was smashed beyond belief, but hell, Lance remained ethereally gorgeous, of course. He was all flushed-faced, pupils blown, hair a bit mussed up — just so sexy. Even in this dark, cramped… bedroom, maybe?

“Hey—“

Lance was on him in an instant, pushing him back onto something — something soft, springy. A bed? Something unknown, albeit comfortable, and Lance was staring down at him like his life depended on it. “ _Hey_.”

Keith wiggled, absolutely giddy. “Is this what you meant by _come away for a sec_?”

Shit, Lance blushed at that. What a nerd. “Hey, listen. I wanna be serious for a second.”

Keith snickered, but was obedient.

“Okay,” After a moment, Lance continued, trusting that he was actually being listened to, “I’m drunk. And so are you.”

Keith stuck out his tongue, and it was met with an eyer oll. 

“And fuck, Keith — baby, I _want_ you. I want you so _bad_. “

Ah. The sex thing.

“Can I,” Lance huffed, leaning down to kiss his jaw, “can _we_ ,” and those kisses got hotter, wetter, like they were dipping down his neck, “get to it?”

Sex got him flustered. His Lance, nervous about banging. What a wild thought. Keith just radiated all the affection he’d been feeling, keeping his lips sealed.

That was definitely not the reaction he wanted, but one he treasured, nonetheless. Lance groaned, “You’re so fucking hot when you’re happy.” 

It was a weird thing to say. However, Keith didn’t really feel like unpacking it at the moment, nor did he have to. Yet, what he did was to arch up and slot his mouth back into the kiss where it belonged. 

Keith hummed, embracing him closer than before. And Lance, _oh Lance_ , had his lower lip between his teeth. Like aways, when Lance bit down down, it sent something through Keith, something that materialized as barked laughter, as a full body twitch. The wine made the sensation so much more ticklish. Lance was intrigued with the reaction, and did it again, sinking into Keith’s soft, pink lip with more gusto than before. 

“God, Keith. I want you so bad.” Lance’s voice had evolved into hurried whispers. “Wanna be _in_ you so bad.”

Being desired like this was far more persuasive than any wine.

His fingers found their way into Lance’s sweaty hair, cherishing how the touch made Lance gasp. Taking advantage of his open mouth, Keith’s own teeth got to snag Lance’s bottom lip, pull it. Lance _squeaked_. This boy was so deliciously sensitive.

“Baby, I’m serious.” Lance loomed over him, and even in the darkness of the room, Keith knew his face was ablaze. “I wanna fuck. Right now.”

Desperation was always worn so well on Lance. And, with an added booziness to his perception, Keith just couldn’t precent himself from laughing in the face of his best friend, his partner, his whatever the hell they were, getting all baby-faced over a drunk boner. It was beyond adorable.

“Fuck, Keith, _c’mon_ ,” Lance whined when he didn’t get anything remote to an answer, lurching down so their noses almost brushed together, “If you don’t wanna, or you’re too drunk or nauseous, just gimme a signal. I can take it — I have a hand. But… time’s a ticking here. My dick hurts, dude.”

There were so many things in that statement that Keith’s fuzzy brain wanted to address. Instead, the thing that came out of his mouth was none of them. 

“Are you really trying to get nasty on a stranger’s bed?”

Whatever Lance was about to say died in his throat. There was a brief moment of silence before a shadowed smirk quirked his face. “Dunno, are you?”

Keith simply spread his arms wide in an invitation to get closer.

Salvation flashed in Lance’s eyes, and before Keith could blink, there were lips on his throat and fingers undoing his fly.

While Lance abused his throat and bared his body, Keith busied himself by stealing a glimpse of the room. Er, well… closet-esque space. Whoever lived here had a tiny, cramped, cube of a bedroom with only enough space for a bed and a dresser able to comfortably fit inside. And to make matters worse, Keith thought, they were about to defile one of the two pieces of furniture in here. 

Huh. Keith might feel guilty later. But, right now he was a little occupied with a warm hand inside his underwear and some rather sharp teeth gnawing along his pulse.

Lance was breathless, fishing for validation. “Do you feel good?”

Swallowing, Keith _uh-huh_ ed. Joy bloomed in Lance’s smile. Sex was always so vocal with him, and nothing got him off more than verbal affirmation that what he was doing was pleasurable. Keith loved that about him, and he fed into that little quirk whenever he could. 

Rolling his hips up into the touch, Keith whispered. “You’re so good to me, Daddy.”

And maybe he fed a few other quirks in the process, too.

It was as if he’d flicked Lance’s ‘off’ switch. He froze. “Keith,” he moaned after a thick silence, “ _c’mon_.”

“What, you don’t like that?” Keith blinked, stroking up and down Lance’s back with his nails before drawing out a very sensuous, “ _Daddy_.”

“Y-you know the answer, asshole.”

Keith shushed him. Lance may have had more fight in him, but it vanished when Keith’s hand suddenly joined the one holding Keith’s dick. “So… touch me. Fuck me. But do it fast before anyone finds us in here.”

“Better keep that pretty mouth of yours shut, then.” Lance accepted that challenge in a heartbeat.

“Daddy, _make me_.”

Things got messy from there.

Lance’s fist tightened around Keith dick. Before a noise could choke out of his throat, Lance’s other hand slapped over Keith’s mouth. There was this flushed, satisfied look on Lance’s face, and Keith knew immediately this was gonna be good. Lance would spoil him, for sure.

When had he gotten so hard, though? Keith couldn’t remember, but that was besides the point because Lance was already going above and beyond. He knew just what he needed. Seriously, that guy knew his way around a dick. Keith’s breathing was already a little shallow from the wine, but now there was a soft thumb pressing circles into the leaky head of his dick, hickeys painting into the flesh near his throat. God, and he thought he was warm before…

“Yikes, what’re you gonna sound like when my dick’s in there, huh?” 

Keith huffed at that, squirming from the sensations. Even with his alcohol-deadened nerves, everything was still a little too intense.

Bites trailed along his collarbone, leaving saliva and palm sweat everywhere. Keith’s shirt had been hiked up high, almost-covering-his-face-too-high, and he didn’t understand why they didn’t just do away with it, but Lance was adamant. It was staying on, apparently. Everybody had a weird kink, apparently.

“Disheveled is a good look for you.” Lance praised, grazing his teeth town his ribcage.

“Mm,” Keith jerked his hips up for more friction, “how so?”

“Well,” Lance’s voice grew teasing, “all these little marks look pretty fucking stellar on your pale as shit skin. And, I gotta be honest… but I was not a good friend to you.” He laughed, almost abashedly. “There’s no way you’re hiding any of these,” he traced along the marks, “from anybody.”

Keith blinked in confusion. “I don’t want to hide any of them.”

“Fuck,” Lance warbled, his nails dragging up his left side, his macho facade shattered. “Why’re you so earnest all the time? It’s scary. Even now… You’re all shiny with spit, you look _terrible_ , really, like you fought a raccoon and _lost_ , and I’m freaking out because _I don’t think we have lube or a condom or anything_ and you’re being so damn _adorable_ and _unhelpful_.”

Keith cocked his head over. “Check the drawers.”

Lance slapped a hand over his eyes and heaved a dramatic sigh. Something so obvious hadn’t crossed his mind, apparently. “Shit, yeah. Hold up.”

The two of them climbed out of the bed and awkwardly navigated to the dresser, fumbling for their phones so they could flashlight through someone else’s property with ease. Pajamas and various lounge pants were crammed into the first drawer. In the second contained boxers, socks, some undershirts and —ah, here we are, _condoms_. A full box of them to boot.

Lance clicked his tongue and held a hand to his heart. “Poor dude.”

There wasn’t any time for a stranger’s pity party. Keith plucked one out of the box and held it up snidely to Lance’s face. “Sucks to be him.”

Lance laughed, but it sounded strained. “Nice, but… about the lube…”

Keith blew a raspberry. Predictable. Instead of arguing, he tugged Lance back towards the bed they were about to desecrate. “Stretch me a little extra, use a ton of spit, I’ll be fine.”

“…Keith. You won’t be able to walk.” Lance gulped. “What if you _die_?”

“Whatever,” he singsonged, and pulled Lance close so he could devour his lips again.

Clearly, Lance wasn’t satisfied with that. He pulled Keith off of him, attempting to use logic. “We could do other stuff. I really, really don’t wanna hurt you.” And in typical Lance fashion, he winked before saying something horrifically cheesy. “Plus, you know what this mouth do, y’know?”

Keith giggled, but the words he chose next were dead serious. “You’re gonna bend me over this bed and fuck my brains out, ok?”

For once, Lance was speechless. 

“I promise, okay?” Keith softened his voice and planted sweet kisses along his jaw, his cheeks, his nose. “If I’m miserable, we’ll stop.”

Lance nodded. “S-sure.”

Wrinkling his nose, Keith closed in with a whisper. “I like it when it hurts. When you hurt me, Daddy.”

It was like Lance had seen a ghost. “Dude, Christ. I get it. Just… Keith, _shit_.”

Keith smiled, biting his bottom lip to keep himself from gloating. Alright. Now they could progress without anymore hang ups. He stepped fully out of his pants, his undies, too. Lance grumbled, shell-shocked still, as he watched Keith drape his shirt and sock wearing self over the bed. Lance whistled, reverent with how Keith gave no fuck in sight about not putting a towel down or his own clothes to keep the sheets stain free.

Wine did lovely things to their sex lives.

Keith wiggled his butt, and heard Lance take a grounding breath. Then, out of nowhere, a harsh slap landed on the right side of his ass. Keith had to choke down a yelp.

“Like that?” Lance’s voice was way closer than Keith expected it to be. Hot lips tickled his ear and his stomach knotted up because _yes, finally_. 

“ _Please_.”

“You’re filthy.”

The throb of the music and electric chatter of the crowd from the other room saturated the air. Colored the shadows on the walls, the bristle of trees through the window. Keith could feel it in Lance’s breath ghosting his ear. And that heat — yes. It was a hearth, and Keith smothered himself closer into the cotton of the ruffled comforter beneath him. Getting cozy, preparing himself. God, he was so ready.

And his prayers were answered. A raw scratch etched down his spine, and Keith hissed. There Lance was. _There_. Stinging his skin, wetting it with sweet kisses. Manicured, soft hands kneading his right ass cheek. Keith’s face buried deeper into blankets, inhaling his stale wine breath over and over again. Lightheaded and woozy and waiting.

Lance growled filthy things into his flesh. Called him a _slut_ while dragging his nails up from the dip behind his knee up the length of his hamstring. His _baby_ the he spanked him, the shock ripping a whimper out of Keith’s throat, demanding Keith to answer him. _Baby, you want more?_ Keith ground his cock into the mattress, drooling out a guttural _Daddy, please._

Another smack, harder than the previous ones made Keith arch, his toes rooting down almost painfully into the composite wood flooring. Lance heaved into his ear, biting the shell, murmuring something that didn’t sound like words. Keith angled his head away, garbling something equally as incoherent, as needy. Lance didn’t like that, though.

“Baby,” there was a painful squeeze to his ass, sudden dry pressure against his entrance, “use your words.”

Keith swallowed a mouthful of spit. “ I-I want you.”

Another hit made his throat raw. That one burned. “Baby, you gotta be specific.”

Keith sputtered his hips against the mattress, helpless. “Your _cock_.”

Lance applied more pressure to him. He was desperate for that finger to be inside him already. “So needy, aren’t you?”

Someone loved to talk a big game only minutes after melting from Keith’s teasing, huh? Keith groaned and canted his hips up, hoping it was enough to get that finger inside. It wasn’t, but it was worthwhile. The surprised moan that slipped out of Lance’s mouth was lovely. “You spoil me so much,” Keith huffed, “Can’t help it.”

Lance cooed into his ear, “So well behaved.” And with that, he crammed his fingers into Keith’s mouth. 

He loved how pliant Lance made his mouth. How he pressed against his heavy tongue, prodded the softness of the inside of his cheeks, fingered his teeth one by one. Keith moaned against the two fingers, sucked on them. Lance’s breath hitched, and that was like a drug. He wanted to turn him into a puddle. Keith nipped at his fingertips, sloppy and wet. He was making such a mess but god was he such an exhibitionist. 

Keith whispered against Lance’s digits, kissed his palm. Keith was basically choking himself on Lance’s fingers, gagging every so often, bobbing his head and sucking them clean. Everything Lance loved. When he felt Lance rutting his clothed prick against the cleft of his ass, groaning with all the thread-bare effort that kept him from fucking right into Keith then and there, he could’ve cried. 

At some point Lance reluctantly removed his fingers. Keith pouted, whined, and then was immediately rewarded with a single finger shoved right into his ass. Only a little resistance — perfect. Keith grinned, resting his forehead atop his forearms. Bracing himself for all the good Lance was about to give him.

“You take it so well.” Lance breathed.

The finger moved without any finesse, quickly, and then there was two. Just scissoring and attempting to open Keith up with only makeshift lube and pure willpower. The pinot had made Keith all relaxed and putty-like, but even then, it wasn’t really enough. He didn’t give a fuck, though. He wanted to submit, to _hurt_ , to let Lance use him like a toy to make himself feel good. Everyone did have a weird kink, after all.

Lance thrust his fingers, three now, barely adhering to a rhythm, keeping Keith on his toes, literally. Keith moaned through his clenched smile, already writhing a bit. There were sparks of sensations, amalgamations of pleasured pain that made Keith’s core ache. His cock was swollen, smushed between his body and the blanket, leaking from the skittish, deep sensations, from craving firmer, more deliberate touches. Keith sobbed, happy anyway, mumbling things into his arm. _Daddy, c’mon. Yeah. I need you, now. Right now. With your cock._

“Such a slut,” Lance hiccuped into his shoulder blades, fisting his t-shirt before sinking his teeth into his skin to stifle a sound. It hurt so good. “On somebody else’s bed, too. Shameless.”

“Daddy, it hurts.” Keith breathed. “Hurts to be empty.”

Lance’s breath hitched again, and his fingers twitched, twitched just _right_ , and Keith had to cover his mouth to stifle a strangled yelp.

“Lance!”

Lance wasn’t that mean. His fingers jabbed the same way, more precise and harsher, and Keith trembled. Lance extracted his fingers while Keith had just started to find a rhythm, fucking himself on those fingers. Now he was really empty, and it killed. 

Keith panted, struggling for air as he waited. Patient through the sound of Lance rolling the condom on, lubing himself up with his own slick spit, his own huffs as he stroked himself. Keith swayed his hips, impatient as all hell now, and the action was met with a well deserved slap. Keith gasped, smearing his face against his arm because he desperate. So, so desperate.

“Really,” Lance’s voice wavered, a tiny break in his controlling confidence, “if you’re in agony, tell me. Please.”

He nodded, and he lifted up his free air, holding his pinky out. “Promise.”

His pinky wrapped around Keith’s. The exhale that followed didn’t have a single trace of anxiety.

Lance lined his cock up. He was holding Keith’s ass hard enough to bruise, and the _little fuck_ had the audacity to just rut himself between Keith’s ass cheeks, rubbing the underside of his prick against his asshole, as if Keith could actually take that kind of teasing at this point. Stretching his skin, fleeting pressure. Fuck. Keith sobbed, arching his ass up, begging Lance to understand that if he didn’t get that dicking soon, he’d _die_.

Lance laughed only at his struggles. That jerk. Keith couldn’t see anything with eyes clamped shut and his arm against his face, but he heard Lance spit again and coat himself for good measure. “Daddy’ll take care of you so good. That’s a promise.”

There was pressure, exhilarating pressure and then it broke and Lance was _in_ and Keith grunted because _shit that hurt_. God, he felt so full, and it was only the tip of his cock. 

Lance hesitated, unsure. Keith powered through the pain and choked for him to just _do it already_.

The slowness of which Lance used to sheath himself was torture. Keith was getting stretched and stuffed in a way that definitely didn’t feel good. Not yet, anyway. It burned, it split, he probably was bleeding, but hell did he want friction. Maybe he needed more spit. He garbled as much, and Lance pulled out, which was a whole new brand of uncomfortable, and covered himself with more. When he pressed in again, shallowly, and _fuck_ Keith was surprised that it wasn’t so bad.

“Shallow,” Keith’s mouth was dry, “Shallow first.”

Lance moaned, rubbing Keith’s back to show he understood. With a moment of stillness, adjusting, he finally moved. His hips strained forward, strained back, and Keith bit his lip hard enough to bleed.

Whoever’s bed this belonged to was going to have a grand ol’ time cleaning off not only semen, but blood, too. 

“I’ll stop.” Lance croaked after one of Keith’s more pained grunts.

“Absolutely not.” Keith hissed, rolling his hips in a way that had Lance doubling over, cursing.

Slowly, Lance crafted a shallow rhythm that wasn’t… terrible. Keith didn’t think it was possible to feel this much sensation at once, but wow, apparently he could. Tears pricked his eyes, his insides burned with every shove in and out of him, but he didn’t hate it. It was painful, but the kind that was harsh enough to bury actual pleasure. There was definitely pleasure hiding somewhere. 

Keith was dripping, throbbing. His dick was liking this. Every so often there was a twinge, a spark, that had him clenching his thighs, thrusting his hips. In all honesty, the only thing that sucked was that his hips were arched up enough to give Lance a good angle, and he wasn’t getting the benefit of being able to hump the blankets while getting fucked. There was a quick fix to that, though.

“Touch me,” Keith whimpered.

Lance’s sweaty, clammy palms squeezed his cock. Keith cried out through his teeth, his blood boiled with the firm way Lance stroked him, fingered his slit, cupped his balls. Keith bucked back, impaling himself deeper, nearly screaming at that, liking the way that it burned.

It was like a punch to the gut. And if Keith wasn’t always up for a good fight.

His arm served as a decent brace. His teeth dug mercilessly into it as Lance’s thrusts started to pick up force. They didn’t feel like a knife in his guts anymore, but something much sweeter. The stretch felt good now, the fullness just what he needed. Still raw, but right. Keith couldn’t stop the embarrassing noises he made anymore. Didn’t care to. 

Lance grunted above him, his breathing as uneven as his rhythm. The stroking, the thrusting, the booze. God, his dick felt so hard inside him. Keith hoped he felt as good as he did…

Keith became nonverbal, fast. It was hard to string coherent thoughts together when something as thick and relentless as Lance’s dick kept spearing into him. Hitting all the best places, dragging in and out of him in ways that Keith didn’t even know were possible. He felt so much, too much, and it had been building and building onto itself and was threatening to topple over.

“You’re so tight, holy shit,” Lance groaned, “Keith, I can’t —“ A wordless whine tears through Keith’s mouth, and Lance chuckles above him. “Same.” 

He adjusted Keith, tried to fold him more, raising his ass higher so he could fuck at a better angle. Keith screamed, his arm doing nothing to silence it. Lance doesn’t mind, _oh no_ , he uses it as encouragement. His grip on his hips gets rougher, his pace takes on a more bruising force. 

Keith wasn’t sure if he’s gonna make it out of this alive.

Every part of him trembled, ached, was swollen, ready to burst. His back hurt, his arm hurt, his cock was killing him. He needed to come. He had to. His own fingers pawed at Lance’s, having gone slack on his leaky prick from his own erratic movements. It’s all so hot and sweaty, precum and spit and everything slicking down Keith’s crotch and thighs, and it’s so _fucking hot_. 

After a moment, Lance got the hint. Keith’s sobbing out things that vaguely sound like _more_ and please which aren’t exactly straightforward. But he understood. Lance murmured sloppy things into Keith’s t-shirt, the pace and the jerking off and his own most-likely approaching orgasm made his breath fail him and his mouth bump into the back of Keith’s skull, but he didn’t care. Neither of them care.

“— slut, you’re so dirty,” Lance’s voice pitched up, so strained, “and you’re all —you’re _mine_.”

Keith’s eyes had been shut the entire time, but fuck, did he see _something_. Colors he didn’t know the name of, shadows, stars, stuff he couldn’t place as all his guts seized up inside. Every part of him shuddered, he felt so _good_ , so _sensitive_. Lance kept squeezing his cock, come dripping down his spasming fingers, staining the bed, every part of him pulsing with the pleasure that kept crashing through him. He’s pretty sure he’s groveling, the sounds he’s letting out beyond humiliating, he doesn’t give a shit though, Lance brought him _here_.

A whimper wracked him, and Keith knew he was crying. Good post-fuck crying, the kind that feels just as good and warm and sluggish as his afterglow. Lance still pounded into him, losing steam. He heard a pathetic sound, and Lance sags forward, almost flush with Keith’s back. 

Lance caught his breath against Keith’s shoulder. Ever so slightly, he rolled his hips, his cock twitching a last few times inside. Keith makes a dazed sound, too spent to move. The two of them lie limp for awhile, trying to regulate their lungs.

Shocking enough, Keith broke the silence first. “Damn.”

Lance snorted, dragging a kiss along Keith’s sweaty shoulder. “Yeah, dude.”

“No,” Keith groaned, wiping the sweat and drool off his face, “We need to leave, immediately.”

Neither of them had any desire to do that.

“I’m so beat,” Lance whined, rolling off to the side so he could big spoon him. “We can’t go yet. And we’re probably rank as hell.”

“Definitely,” Keith wrinkled his nose, “We’re disgusting.”

“At least we’re disgusting together.” Lance moaned into the back of Keith’s neck, wrapping his arms around him. He didn’t do or say anything for a few indulgent moments, and they were content in the quiet. Yet, when Lance did, it was all business. “Can you even walk?”

Keith stayed quiet.

“Well?”

“… I honestly don’t know.”

“I destroyed you.” It was a mix of guilt and pride.

Keith smiled. “It’s exactly what I wanted.”

Nipping the damp skin below the curls at the base of Keith’s neck, Lance teased. “Daddy really gave it to ya, huh?”

Keith covered his mouth to stifle his laughter. His cheeks were hot, and he could feel Lance’s just as warm. “Shut up.”

Giggles erupted from the pair as Lance started tickling his sides, pecking all the sensitive areas on Keith’s extremely love-bitten neck, the two of them fucking around in their affection as usual.

But then there was a knock on the door and the fucking around had to cease.

“ _Shit_.”

Scrambling for clothes, for dignity, for time, was hard to do normally. But with their alcohol-riddled systems, tired bodies, it was impossible. Keith soon discovered that moving was _horrible_. With a shout of _hold on!_ , they barely made themselves presentable before Lance, the less sexed up of the two, opened the door.

Hunk looked beyond embarrassed when he met their eyes. “You two done, yet?”

Both of them shrugged and tried to smile it off. The return of the pounding music from the party made them both feel small.

When Hunk finally got a good look at them both — more like saw Keith fully in all his glory, he rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Shit, I _can’t_ sneak you guys out. Keith… just… why’d you let him do that to you?” He motioned up and down dejectedly with his hand. He looked so upset. “You look… bad.”

Keith just sunk into his shoulders. 

Lance puffed his cheeks, shielding him. “Hey, don’t kinkshame him.”

That was definitely not a sentence Hunk ever wanted to hear again by the look of his sour expression. There was a certain degree of finality, of surrender, as he grabbed his friends and removed them from the room.

Everyone was staring at them. The music wasn’t shut off, but it sure felt like silence.

Keith was a disaster, after all. He couldn’t see himself, but he was positive he looked like he had been mauled by a raccoon or something… Lance opened his mouth, gearing up most likely for an impassioned monologue about slut-shaming and protecting Keith’s dignity, but Hunk’s hand was faster than his mouth and he literally had to be hauled out of the room like a hostage, Keith limping in tow.

When they left the apartment, Hunk frowned, collapsing back against the hallway wall. “We’re never getting invited back. I hope you two know that. All that free booze, gone forever.”

Keith adjusted his shirt, tucking the wrinkled mess into his pants. He just shrugged at Hunk, bemused “The bed wasn’t even that comfy.”

Lance glowed. “Keith, drag them!!”

Keith thought Hunk needed another drink.

**Author's Note:**

> the funniest thing about all this is neither lance nor keith is conceivably a daddy
> 
> yell at me, tell me i’m a joke, point out any mistakes, hand me money for more content like this at
> 
> bishounen-curious.tumblr.com


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